Untouchable

Chapter Six

The next day was horrendous. No. Dreadful. Sickening. Erroneous.

Normal days at school were already hard, but today was bad. It didn't even start off good. It was horrible right from the start.

Not only did the razor I had used the previous night cut into my skin, but it had cut into my walls, making me vulnerable. I had worn a sweater, but I still felt like people could see. They could see the marks.

They could see how fucked up I was.

I felt guilty-ashamed. Yet I didn't know why. Who would care? Certainly not my father-perhaps the barbies? They always were looking for the latest gossip. But would I be worth their gossip? Maybe now, since I had made enemies with them the week prior.

English had gone by no problem-that class was cold, so no one questioned my sweater in the middle of a somewhat balmy November. But the French class was hot, and I was burning up. Everyone was focused on their worksheet. Would they notice me? Its not like they did any other time. I slowly zipped it off, wincing as the fabric ran over the sore cuts.

The cuts on my wrist felt awkward. It wasn't me. I felt like I had a crime written all over my forearm; but perhaps I did. It was a crime what my 'father' was doing to me. It was a crime what I was doing to me.

I continued to struggle with my worksheet, keeping my arm tucked. I had no idea what I was doing, and I was positive everyone else had finished. It was almost intimidating.

Chatter and noise was beginning to spurt throughout the class, meaning it was almost over. I packed my books into my bag, ignoring the teacher who was complaining about class not being over.

It's 11:03 lady. Class ends at 11:05.

I set my bag on my desk, and reached over to grab my sweater. When I turned back around, bright pink invaded my vision. I dragged my vision up to a girls eyes, noticing the rest of her barbie followers behind her.

What was this girls name again? Victoria, Vanessa . . . Veronica!

Then her hand, decorated in flashy rings and bracelets, with fake nails that reminded me of claws, shot out and grabbed my wrist flipping it over to show my cuts.

My eyes went wide, and I ripped my hand from her grasp.

"What the hell!" who did she think she was getting all up in my business?

"Oh, look what we have here. Girls, little Tay-Tay has finally found out who she is; an Emo!" Vanessa-no Veronica teased. Like hell I cared about what their names were.

A chorus of laughter erupted from the group.

"Go away," I said rolling my eyes.

"Aw, muffin. We're here to help," another piped up. Her name might've been Teagan, but at the moment it was Bitch. She reached out, clasping my hand in hers. "We're here for you. It must be so hard without a mom."

"Fuck off before I rip your fake little tits off."

"Oh, are you claiming yourself as a lesbian now?" Veronica piped up again.

I rolled my eyes, wondering where the teacher was. Usually, in instances like this where I was literally being cornered by these preppy bitches, they would weakly say to leave me alone. But my French teacher was probably focused in on her laptop with a bottle full of Vodka. Or perhaps she was somewhere smoking a joint. I wouldn't be surprised at either. Hell-I wouldn't mind joining her.

The onslaught of them saying I deserved to cut continued. Well, they were pretending to be concerned, but I knew they were thinking that. I stood up, wanting to get away. But Teagan was in my way.